I hate loving you
by MsKylie93
Summary: He never stopped loving her. He probably never will. Sometimes he thinks he sees her...He'll catch a glimpse of blonde hair from across the road. Every time he thinks it's her. Every time it's not. That doesn't stop him from looking.
1. Chapter 1

**She got out of town**

He hasn't seen her in five years. She got out of town and never looked backed. They all did. They moved on and became the people they were supposed to become. Except for him. He stayed. He was stuck. Frozen, while the rest of the world was in motion.

He never stopped loving her. He probably never will.

Sometimes he thinks he sees her. He'll catch a glimpse of blonde hair from across the road. He'll see a flash of a yellow sweater or catch sight of a dress fluttering in the wind. Every time he thinks it's her. Every time it's not. That doesn't stop him from looking. Last he heard, she moved to New York. But who really knows anymore.

He would have heard if she was back in town. It doesn't really surprise him that he hasn't. What's really left for her in Lima anymore? Certainly not him. The first year after graduation, he left to visit Finn in New York. When he came back, his mother told him Quinn was in town. It was almost like she knew. She knew she could come back without risking having to see him again.

Occasionally, he would see Judy Fabray downtown. The first couple of times she looked good, happy, healthy. He wanted to approach her, but didn't know how.

The last time he saw her, she looked tired, worn-out.

It was only then did he finally go talk to her. She was sick. She had cancer. He didn't know what to say. He had never really known Judy, but a part of him felt connected to her. He hugged her. Surprisingly, she hugged him back.

He hears about the funeral a couple of months later. A few tears slip from his eyes. He doesn't wipe them away. He digs out the old black pants from their regionals competition. He feels guilty for going to the funeral, like he's only going to see Quinn. He goes anyways.

He looks for her the entire ceremony but doesn't see her until the end. Suddenly, it's like nothing has changed. He remembers what it feels like to be in her presence. In all honesty, he is surprised that she even showed up. It sounds horrible, but maybe it's the truth.

He watches her from afar. She is more beautiful than before, if at all possible. She takes his breath away. Her blonde hair, long again, is swept up into a ponytail. Her black dress is elegant and modest. He aches for her. Yet, he is conflicted. He has waited for this moment for five years. But, now that it's finally here, he isn't sure of anything anymore.

He doesn't approach her right away. Instead, he watches. Something about her is different. He expected that much, but he just can't place what it is. She's sad, he eventually realizes. Not just about her mother, but about something else.

Quinn stays away from her father the whole night. Not once does Puck see him approach her either. Fran is there too. He hates Fran. He doesn't care if that sounds horrible. She treats Quinn like crap. He notes the prevalent tension between the two sisters. He watches her belittle Quinn over and over again as they talk to friends and family. God, does he hate Fran.

After the burial, he gets in his car and drives to the reception. He thought seeing Quinn again would make him feel better, but it doesn't. It just makes him long for what he doesn't have. She's still broken – it's not hard to tell. There is nothing he wants more than to fix her, but he can't, because maybe he needs fixing too.

xxxxx

Everything is going smoothly. Or at least that is what she tells herself. She doesn't want to think. She just wants to live without worry. Is that too much to ask for? "Keep busy," she reminds herself. Less free time means less thinking.

She has spent her whole life either wanting to get out of Lima or wanting to stay away from it. Yet here she is, back again. She wonders if he is still here. She hopes not. He is too good for a place like this, even if he doesn't realize it. She doesn't want to see him. He reminds her too much of everything she wants to forget.

For a while he would email her or call her on the phone. She ignored them all, deleting the messages before she even had a chance to hear them. She feared that his voice would send her back. Back to Lima, back to him. It would make her reconsider every decision she made. But most of all, she feared it would make her miss him even more.

When her mom got sick, she would come to Ohio every weekend. She would stay in her old bedroom. She would take her mom to doctor's appointments. She would cry herself to sleep. But she never went out. She was afraid of running into him. She never let anyone know she was back. She was like a ghost. Maybe they could feel her presence, but they couldn't see her. Most of the time she liked it that way.

Yet, she knew it was inevitable for her to stay hidden away forever.

She places the cheese puffs on the silver platter. With her other hand, she smooths down the front of her skirt. She pretends like everything is okay. After all, that is what she does. It is what she has always done. She talks with her family members and friends. She makes the rounds with the food. She is grateful when she can return to the kitchen.

Pulling a knife out from the drawer, she begins to slice the baguette. She catches sight of a picture on the kitchen wall. It is of her mom and her before junior prom. Quinn used to think those were the difficult times. Now, she would do anything to go back, to have one more day of her youth.

She starts to shake at the memories. Then she begins to bawl. It is impossible for her to hold it in any longer. There is only so much pretending one can do. She rests her head in her hands, and leans against the counter. The tile is cool against her warm flesh.

She closes her eyes. She remembers the feel of the long, blue sequined dress. If she concentrates hard enough, she can feel her mother's hands in her hair, creating the perfect chignon. She remembers walking down the stairs and seeing Finn's face. She can hear the click of the camera as her mother snaps a picture. She longs to go back.

"I need you," she mummers under her breathe. "I don't know what I'm going to do now."

Her sobs grew louder. Her mother and her shared a complicated relationship. They made mistakes. They hurt each other. But she was still her mother. She starts to remember everything she has been through. She hates it. She wonders how will she make it through.

Quinn hates this feeling. She hates being weak and sad. She wants to get out of this house. The memories are too strong. She wants to get out of this place. But she doesn't want to go back to New York either. She doesn't know where she belongs anymore.

"Your hair is long again," a voice pipes up from behind her. Quinn freezes.

She drops the knife. The metal blade clatters on the hardwood floor. Puck flinches. She doesn't move. Things like that don't startle her anymore. His voice does.

It scares her. But probably not as much as it should. It's almost like she has been waiting to hear it ever since she set foot back in Ohio.

"What are you doing here?" she asks bitterly, refusing to look up from the cutting board.

"I came to pay my condolences."

She forcefully wipes a tear away. She looks up at him. Her breath hitches at seeing him in front of her. She hasn't seen him in years. She wants this dream to be over. Why does everything have to hurt so much?

It's the first time he's seen those hazel green eyes in ages. They are still the same beautiful eyes. But this time he can see the pain in them. The hurt, the anger, the resentment. She looks the same. So does he. A little older but that's about it. But up close, he can see how frail and tired she really is.

"I'm sorry to hear about your mom Q."

"Don't call me that."

He stares at her.

"I haven't been that girl in such a long time"

"You're still her to me," he softly replies.

She doesn't know how to feel, so she pretends like she's better. Better than him, better than being here, better than she was before she left. She's not though. If anything, she's worse.

"You don't even know me anymore. We're strangers to one another."

That stings.

"And whose fault is that?" he bitterly asks.

He watches her avert her eyes away from him. She's trying not to cry. His comment hurt her. That much he knows. He knows how much she hates being weak and vulnerable. He's managed to puncture her exterior walls. Only a little bit, but it was better than nothing. It's a tiny success; he still has a lot of tearing down to do.

She refuses to look at him again. He was right. It was her fault. But she didn't want to be reminded of him anymore.

"You know nothing," she spits out.

He stares at her. "I know," he replies. It's the truth. He doesn't know anything. He doesn't know her. He wants to, but she won't let him.

"Get out. Leave."

It's not the first time he's heard her say that, but it doesn't make it hurt any less.


	2. A railway New York bound

**Thanks to everyone for alerting, reviewing, favouriting this story! Thanks to the anon, and gleeothfriends90210cccjsdAMD for reviewing! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the song Bright Lights by Matchbox 20, which the chapter titles come from.**

He refuses to give up. Maybe it's silly, but he doesn't think so. Something things are worth fighting for. He goes back to her old house the next day. He walks up the pathway, remembering doing it so many times before. His strong calloused hand knocks on the white prestigious door. There is no response. He rings the doorbell. She doesn't answer it. No surprise there. He rings again.

She can hear the knock from upstairs. She knows it's him without looking. It makes her nervous. She runs to the bathroom, flinging open the door. She kneels down in front of the toilette and empties the contents of her stomach. She flushes and watches it disappear. She hopes it will take everything else with it.

The doorbell rings again. She ignores it.

Glancing in the mirror, she stares back at her reflection. Who is the person staring back at her? She has dark circles under her eyes. Her blonde hair is stringy. Her skin looks sickly. She takes the bottle of foundation and squirts it on her hand. With a brush, she smears it over her face. She combs her hair, sweeping it into a ponytail. Much better, she decides.

After waiting a couple minutes, Puck finally decides to yell. "I know you're in their Quinn."

She glares at the front door upon hearing his voice. The voice in her head tells her not to go. She doesn't listen. Before she can think about it, she's opening the door.

"What do you want? Didn't I make it clear last night."

"I want to talk to you."

"There is nothing left to talk about." She crosses her arms. For a second, he sees a glimmer of the old Quinn. It fades quickly.

"What happened to you Q?"

His old nickname for her slips out again before he can stop himself. He braces himself for her reaction.

She chooses to ignore it. Or maybe she just doesn't notice at all. Maybe the familiarity of the past clouds her memory. Maybe its like five years haven't passed by and they are young again. He is Puck, she is Quinn and everything makes sense. Or maybe it doesn't make sense, but it feels right.

"I got out of here, that's what happened to me."

She goes to slam the front door, but he stops it with his foot.

"No…I mean, what happened to YOU. What happened to the Quinn Fabray who left Lima full of hope and determination? What happened to that girl? "

"I'm not that person any more. I've changed Puck, we all do."

"I can still see parts of her in you."

Quinn uncrosses her arms. Something in her shifts slightly. The steeliness in her eyes softens slightly.

"She got lost along the way."

"I can help you find her again."

She strongly shakes her head no. It's not that simple. She wishes it was, but it isn't. He doesn't understand what she's been through. He doesn't know who she is anymore. Neither does she.

"Just accept it and move on Puck. I know I have."

"I can't. You know why?"

She refuses to meet his gaze. Instead, she bites her lip. God, he forgot how she used to do that.

"I can't move on because I'm still stuck in the same place that I was five years ago. Everyone else has moved on to bigger and better things except for me."

"Yeah, well not everything is bigger and better, trust me," she replies bitterly.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Some things aren't as great as they seem."

"I thought you liked Yale, or New York, or wherever you are! I thought you liked not being here! You never came back. Even when your mother was sick."

She swallows hard at the mention of New York. "I did like Yale. That wasn't the problem. And I did come back. You think I would just leave my mother when she was sick? Is that really who you think I am?"

"I don't know who you are anymore…remember?" he says sarcastically. He can't help himself.

"I would never abandon her. Do you think it was easy for me to come back here? Because it wasn't. It's painful and sad to look around and see everything that was once so familiar to me become so foreign. But I didn't have a choice, did I? My mother needed me. She was my only family member. Fran doesn't care about me; neither does my own father. Hell, I don't even think they cared about my mother. So how dare you say that I didn't come back for her. Just because you didn't see me here, doesn't mean that I wasn't," she yelled at him.

He stands in shock at her confession. Remnants of the old Quinn shine through in her words. It makes him feel better knowing that she is still there: just hidden beneath layers. She was right though, how dare he just assume. Just because she doesn't care about him anymore, doesn't mean she doesn't care about anyone.

"I'm sorry Quinn. I didn't know…I-,"

"Just stop. You don't know shit about me or my life. Stop acting like you do."

Her words are intended to hurt him. But they don't. Not really. He is more worried. Worried about the pain that is evident in her voice as she speaks. Once again, he wonders what the hell happened to her?

"Quinn, I just miss you," he says softly

A single tear escapes from her eye. What made her this way? Then she remembers. She remembers it all much to vividly. All she wants is to feel loved. But she is too scared to love in return.

"You wouldn't miss me if you knew."

"Knew what Quinn?"

"If you knew what kind of person I am now, you wouldn't miss me. You would be happy to have me gone."

"That's not true, I will never feel that way about you."

"Well I wouldn't blame you, because that's how I feel about myself some days."

Those words scare the shit out of him. He wants to pull her into his arms, and whisper that everything is going to be okay. He can't though. She would never let him. Plus, he doesn't know if that is enough anymore.

"Let me help you," he chokes out.

She stares at him in disbelief. Isn't this what she has always wanted? To have someone to help her? It doesn't seem real. It doesn't seem possible. She doesn't know what to say, so she stares at him. She opens her mouth to speak but no words come out. Suddenly, the phone starts to ring. She looks back inside, then at Puck.

"I should … get that," she manages to say, motioning with her head.

He nods, but he doesn't want her to go. He was just making progress. He goes to say something, but before he can get the words out, she is gone.

Again.


	3. Somethings you can't see

**Sorry for the EXTREMELY late update… I hope to update more continuously from here on out :)**

**Thank you to BMontague, andsoitis2 for reviewing and reading all my stories, I appreciate it so much! Thanks to every one who has read, alerted, subscribed, favourited… it means so much to me! **

**This chapter adds to the plot line a bit…hope you enjoy! And I apologize in advance if I get some of the "technical" legal details wrong…**

**:) **

The phone rings.

She is grateful for the interruption, and the chance to let herself forget. Forget about everything she has spent the last five years repressing. Forget about Puck, if only for a mere second.

She leaves him standing on her front porch as she shuts the door. A part of her feels bad, the other part feels relieved. She runs to catch the phone.

"Hello?"

"Is this Miss Quinn Fabray?"

"Yes."

"My name is Ted Owens, I was your mother's attorney. I would like to discuss her will with you."

"Of course."

"When is the earliest and most convenient time for you?"

"Tomorrow? Around noon?"

"I must say, you're one of my most timely clients Miss Fabray."

"Quinn. You can call me Quinn."

"Alright Quinn, I will see you tomorrow."

"Will my father or sister be joining us?"

"No, just us. Would you prefer to have someone else there?"

"No…thank you."

She hangs up the phone. She feels sick again. She runs to the bathroom and empties her stomach. Afterwards she feels a bit better. It is short lived.

xxxxx

She wakes up the next morning at 8 o'clock. She decides to be productive. She turns on the shower and strips down. She looks at herself in the mirror. She cringes and looks away. She steps into the shower and lets the hot water cascade down her body. For a second it feels like everything is being washed away. Her problems slowly travel down the drain never to be seen again. If only it was that easy.

She sweeps her wet blonde hair up into a messy bun, and barely bothers with makeup. The attorney shouldn't care what she looks like. She stands in the middle of her bedroom and decides its time. It's time to begin sorting out the house. She's going to have to do it eventually. There is no point in prolonging matters. The sooner she sells this house, the sooner she can leave. The sooner it will all become a memory again.

She begins with her room. She will save her moms for last. Peering into her closest, she sighs. "Where to begin?" she mutters under her breath. Her eyes gaze over the clothes hanging so perfectly on the rack. She notices the baby doll dresses first. The ones she wore when she was pregnant with Beth. She abandoned them long ago. Who knew that a simple piece of fabric could serve as such a strong reminder?

She pulls out one in particular. It is blue and white. Her mind flashes back to sophomore year. After Beth was born, Quinn changed her wardrobe in the hopes that it would change her. It didn't work too well. Staring at them now, she has a sudden yearning to put it on. Maybe it will make her feel better. Maybe it will make her feel like herself. Or at least the girl she once was.

She pulls off her sweat pants, and shirt. She stands inside the dress and slowly pulls in up. She tugs on the zipper. It still fits fairly well. It is a little big from where her baby bump once sat. But it's probably only noticeable to her. She decides to leave it on. It smells like the linen closet: fresh and clean. It reminders her of her mother.

She digs around for a bit, tossing out old and worn clothes. She almost laughs when she finds the "skank" clothing. She doesn't though. It still seems too early to laugh. She leaves the rest of the baby doll dresses hanging up. She can't part with them yet.

She wheels her desk chair into her closest and cautiously stands on it. Peering into the back corners, she notices a blue box. She reaches for it, nearly tumbling off her chair in the process. She curses under her breath. The old Quinn never cursed. Regaining her balance, she stretches for the box again, finally grabbing it this time.

It is covered in dust. It has been long forgotten. She warns herself not to open it. There will be too many memories, she tells herself. She opens it anyways.

A small paper bracelet is lying on top. She gingerly picks it up, like it will break at any moment. "Beth Fabray" it reads. It is from that day. The day she was born. Quinn throws it back into the box. She slams the lid closed. She never should have opened it. There are somethings that she just can't see, not yet. She isn't ready. Picking it up, she shoves it back onto the shelf. She shuts the closet door.

"I'll do it another day," she decides.

The doorbell rings.

It is exactly noon. The time has passed quickly. Quinn wonders if the attorney sat in his car waiting for the precise moment. She opens the door slowly. She is faced with an older man, 40 years old, greying hair. She instantly feels foolish standing there in the baby doll dress. She can't believe she forgot to change.

"Ted," he says, reaching out his hand.

"Quinn."

"I've heard a lot about you Quinn."

She chooses not to say anything in response. She opens the door wider.

"Please come in."

She is proper. Emotionless. Her words are simply words. They lack depth and meaning. She has stopped pretending, it takes too much effort.

He follows her to the kitchen table, and they sit facing each other. It is uncomfortable and Quinn immediately wants it to be over.

Ted slides a piece of paper across the glass tabletop.

"Your mother…she left most of her estate to you."

Quinn stares at the paper in front of her. She doesn't read it.

"Usually this kind of thing garners more of a reaction."

"What about my sister?" Quinn asks.

"Fran?"

"Yes."

"Your mother left her a small fraction of the money. She wanted you to have the majority."

"Why?"

"I'm afraid I don't know Miss Fa – Quinn."

"Surely, she must have said something."

Ted looks away. Quinn instantly knows there is something he is hiding.

He sighs.

"I knew your mother Quinn."

"Obviously."

"No, I wasn't just her attorney, we were….friends."

"Friends? Isn't that frowned upon… using your friend as your attorney?"

He sighs. "You're right. What we had was complicated."

She gives him a quizzical look.

"I mean, we had a complicated relationship. I normally wouldn't do this for a friend, but I…I felt like I had to."

Quinn winces at that. "Did she approach you when she was sick?"

Ted looks down at the table again. "Yes," he whispers.

She nods and bites her lip. "Did you just agree because you felt sorry for her?"

"No, no of course now."

This is enough of an answer. For now. "Okay," Quinn says, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nods. They stare at each other again.

"So you know why she left me the money then?"

"She said you would need it more than Fran."

"She must have said something else," Quinn repeats desperately. "I know it's not just because of my father. I know he won't leave anything for me, but there has got to be another reason." Deep down, she already knows why her mother left the money for her. She just doesn't want to admit it to herself.

"Judy said you would need the money to get… better," he finally admits.

The truth comes out. It doesn't surprise her. Quinn clenches the fabric of her dress in her hands. She grips so tight that her knuckles turn white.

"Why do people keep implying that I'm sick?" she spits out.

"I don't know…I'm sorry miss."

She wipes away a tear. She shouldn't be getting mad at Ted, but there is no one else around.

"No letter or anything?" she asks.

Quinn watches him fidget.

"She said you would find it when you needed to."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm sorry…. This is how she wanted it."

Quinn nods slightly, "I should have known that she would do something like this. My mother was always one for playing games."

Ted laughs a little. "Indeed she was, your mother."

"So there was nothing else?"

His face goes serious again. "She wanted me to tell you one thing..."

"What"

"She wanted you to take time off."

"Time off?"

"From your job. She said she wanted you to stay in Ohio for a bit, find yourself."

"Why do people keep implying that I need to find the "old me" again?" Her voice is bitter. Harsh.

Ted stares at her, clearly uncomfortable. He doesn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I just don't know what to do anymore."

"I understand."

He gives her a weak smile and stands up from his chair.

Quinn follows suit. She walks him to the front door. He stretches out his hand, and she shakes it.

"Thank you Ted, we'll talk soon I'm sure."

He nods, "I'm sorry about your loss, your mother was a lovely lady."

Quinn lets her eyes fall to the ground, she can feel the tears coming on. When she looks back up, she finds Ted staring at a picture of Judy on the wall. He looks sad too.

"How did you know my mother Ted?" she asks.

"From a long, long time ago."

This answer is enough for the both of them. For now anyways. He begins to walk out the door. Quinn starts to close it behind him. But before she shuts it completely, she croaks out the words, "I'm sorry for your loss too then."


	4. You'll find something

**Thank you all so much for reviewing and alerting! 3 it brings such a smile to my face and keeps me writing! xxx**

Sometimes life feels like it won't move on. But it does. Somehow it just finds a way.

Puck refuses to give up. He just doesn't know what to do anymore. He feels hopeless. So he gets up and walks. He doesn't have a destination in his head. But his feet must, because he ends up at McKinley. He wanders through the hallways. Everything seems so familiar. Yet, it seems so different at the same time. Where has the time gone?

The kids are still in class. The hallways are empty. He stops at her locker. He runs his fingertips over the lock. The past seems so close, like one simple turn of a dial could transport him back, back to a time where everything was better. Where he still had a shot. A shot with Quinn. A shot of getting out of this place. A shot at something more. He slams his head against the locker in frustration.

He takes the familiar route to the choir room. He peeks his head inside. Mr. Shue is sitting at the piano, staring at a music book.

"Mr. Shue?" Puck says, walking into full view.

The voice surprises him. Immediately, Will is on his feet, walking over to his former student.

"Puck!"

He leans in for a hug. They slap each other's back. They've seen each other around town a couple of times, but Puck always avoids him. He hates people seeing him in this town. It reminds him of the fact that he never left.

"How are you? I haven't seen you around," Shue says. But that isn't the full truth. He has seen Puck; he knows the young man avoids him on purpose. He doesn't want to make it harder on Puck than it already is.

"I'm…I'm fine."

"Well that's good…really good," he says, because what else is there to say?

"How are you? How's Emma? And the kids?"

He chuckles. He has kids of his own now: three of them. "They're great, thanks for asking."

The two stare at each other for a while, trying to figure out something to say.

"I just got to thinking about glee club the other day. Thought I would pay a visit," Puck says, breaking the silence.

"I appreciate it Puck. I miss you kids, but I guess you're not really kids anymore."

Puck shakes his head, "I guess not."

"Have you talked to Finn lately?"

Puck's face drops slightly. "No, we kinda fell out of touch. Have you?"

Will can't hide the disappoint from showing on his face. He always hoped his former glee club would stay in touch. Especially those two. Maybe he was being unrealistic. "Yeah, he and Rachel just got back from their honeymoon."

Puck feels his stomach drop. "That's really great."

"You weren't at the wedding?" Mr. Shue asks, but it's more like a statement than a question.

"No, I… I didn't go. I was busy." The latter part is a lie. They both know that.

Mr. Shue nods his head.

"Quinn is back in town," Puck finally admits.

"I heard. She told me that her mother was sick at Rachel and Finn's wedding... then I heard she was back in Lima for the funeral, it's so sad. Just another person Quinn's had to lose."

"Quinn was at the wedding?" Puck asks, the surprise evident in his voice.

Puck knew she would get an invite. But he just didn't expect her to go. Not while she is here ignoring him.

Mr. Shue looks confused at this statement. "Uhhh yeah…. She was Rachel's Maid of Honour."

Silence fills the room as Puck tries to digest what this means.

"You didn't know?"

"I knew they left high school as friends, I just…. I guess I didn't expect them to stay that way."

"I don't anyone expected that friendship. But it's nice. They both need someone they can rely on."

It hurts. It hurts Puck to hear that Quinn is still friends with Finn and Rachel. Especially when he isn't. It hurts to know that she went to the wedding. He didn't. He isn't hurt by her actions, he is hurt by his own. He screwed up. He let the best things in his life go.

"I think it meant a lot for the both of them, you know?" Shue asks, drawing Puck out of his thoughts.

"Sorry… I was daydreaming. What meant a lot?"

"That Quinn was able to be there for this wedding, when she didn't make it to the first one," he says, referring to the Finchel wedding senior year. The one that was stopped short because of Quinn's car accident.

"God, time passes so quickly," Puck admits, thinking back to that day. He can remember how much his heart hurt when he heard the news. He shakes his head, trying to rid it of the memories. He doesn't want to think about it anymore. It reminds him that he didn't fight for her enough.

"Have you talked to Quinn yet?" Mr. Shue asks.

"Yeah, but she doesn't want to talk to me."

Mr. Shue nods, "Give her some time."

"I just… I miss her. I've always missed her."

Mr. Shue rubs his temples. He doesn't know what to say.

Puck continues, " I thought that seeing her again in Lima, would make me miss her less. But it doesn't. Because now I just miss the old Quinn even more."

"I know, we all do," Shue replies softly.

"I miss the Quinn who was happy. The Quinn who was leaving Lima determined and independent."

"I miss her too."

"What happened to her?"

Mr. Shue shakes his head. "I don't know. She was okay at the wedding, but I new something was off…I just couldn't figure out what exactly. But I know that she's been through a lot. More than anyone should ever have to go through."

"She seems so broken. I just want to help her, but I don't know how."

"She needs to trust you before she can let you back in."

Puck no longer holds back the tears. He lets them trickle down his face.

"Puck, you've always been the only one who can break down Quinn's walls."

"How am I supposed to do that when I don't even know who she is anymore?"

"One day, you'll find something. It will be the smallest thing, like a gesture she makes, or a necklace she wears, but that will be enough. It will be enough to show you that the old Quinn is still there. Underneath a few layers, no doubt, but she will still be there."

"She will still be there," Puck echoes back.

Maybe Puck is trying to convince himself that it's true. Or maybe hearing the words out loud gives him a sense of hope. Either way, it makes him feel better.

"Do you know what happened to Q?" Puck asks again. He can't help but be hopeful that his former teacher can give him some sort of clue.

Shue shakes his head, " No…I'm afraid I don't."

They stare at the ground in silence for a while.

"Well, thanks Mr. Shue."

"Anytime. It was nice to see you again Puck."

The give each other one more hug. It feels more complete this time. It feels like something has been resolved. Neither of them knows what exactly it is though.

Puck is almost throughout the door, when Mr. Shue speaks up again.

"Something did though…something happened to Quinn. I can just feel it. "

"Me too."

And with that, Puck leaves with even more questions than he started with.


	5. Her apartment in the city

**Thanks so much to ****QuickSapphire****, paperbacknovel, ****gleeothfriends90210cccjsdAMD****, ****BMontague****, and ****Jessimischa**** for the lovely reviews! I cannot explain how happy they make me, and how much motivation they provide! I appreciate you all taking the time to read, review and alert, much love and many thanks :) **

**Quinn's past will start to reveal itself very soon, there's a bit of a clue in this chapter that may explain some of it. **

**Again, thanks so much!**

She wakes up even earlier today, but she can't force her body out of bed. She is thinking about her mother and Ted. She is thinking about the will. She is thinking about the letter her mother left for her. She is thinking about how her mother apparently wants her to stay in Lima: to get better.

"I am not sick," Quinn mutters under her breath.

She rolls over and buries her head in the pillow.

"I am not sick."

She wants to forget about all of this. It makes her head hurt. She sleeps for another three hours.

When she wakes up again, her mind immediately goes back to what she was thinking before. She groans and pulls herself out of bed. The house is freezing, yet it's mid-May. She pulls on her robe and heads down stairs. She turns on the coffee pot. Taking a seat at the kitchen table, she stares out the window. She waits in the same position until the coffee machine beeps.

She pours herself a cup of the steaming hot liquid. The rich scent fills in the air. She doesn't add cream or sugar. Now she takes it black and strong. She looks over at the bagels sitting on the counter. "I'm not hungry," she decides. She feels like they keep staring at her, so she gets up from her chair and leaves.

She takes a seat in the living room. The will is sitting on the coffee table. Why can't she escape anything? Every room she goes into, something manages to haunt her. She tears her eyes away from the envelope. Eventually, she picks it back up, letting out a sigh in the process. She turns over the thin piece of paper in her hand.

"She wants me to stay in Lima to get better?" Quinn asks herself out loud.

She can't wrap her mind around it. It doesn't make sense. Why stay in a place that just makes her heart ache even more? It won't make her better. It will just make her worse. Plus, she's not sick. She doesn't need to get better.

She looks at the amount of money her mother left her. It's a lot. She can't just take the money and run. It wouldn't be fair. She wouldn't feel good about it. Quinn lets out a shaky sigh. She has to stay here, if only for a little while. It is what her mother would want. Or did want, rather.

Quinn looks around. Everything in this house has a memory. Everything is exactly the same as it was five years ago. The cream coloured furniture, the dark mahogany wood. She glances over at the dining room table. She clearly remembers when she and Finn told her parents she was pregnant there. She looks at the couch she sat at when her father kicked her out. Every memory is so vivid; it feels like it was yesterday.

If she stays in Lima, she can't stay here. There are too many memories. She goes to the front door, and grabs the day's newspaper. She starts flicking through the apartment listings for rent. She circles a few.

She picks up the phone and dials one of the phone numbers listed. The apartment looks pretty nice. It is nothing like her apartment in the city, in New York. But that's what she needs. She doesn't want any more reminders. She hangs up a few minutes later with an appointment to see the apartment. Today.

Heading upstairs to get dressed, Quinn realizes she has a problem. She only brought a suitcase full of clothes. The rest of her wardrobe remains in New York. She can't go back and get it. Not yet. She decides she will just have to wear her old clothes.

Her cell phone rings, drawing her out of her thoughts. Quinn glances at the caller I.D. It's Rachel. It's the ninth time she's called this week. Quinn picks up her phone. She stares at it for a while. A tear trickles down her cheek. She misses her best friend. She misses her so much. She wants to answer it but she can't. She just can't.

She lets it go to voicemail. She listens to the message right after, shakily entering her password when prompted.

"_Quinn, it's Rachel…" _

Quinn starts to cry heavily when she hears her friend's voice. She can tell that Rachel is upset, and it pains her to know that once again, she is the cause behind it.

"_Please answer Quinn… I miss you. Why won't you answer your phone? I'm worried about you, so is Finn. We went to your apartment the other day, but no one was there. And you won't pick up. I just don't know what to do anymore. I've called everyone I can think of but no one knows where you are. I don't know what to do. Just…just call me okay. Please. I love you, we both love you."_

Quinn sits in the chair and sobs heavily, until the tears blur her vision and make her head pound. She wants her best friend to hold her. She wants to see Finn and Rachel. She wants to tell them everything. But she is fine.

"I am fine," she tells herself.

She goes upstairs to get ready. She showers and does her hair. She even puts on makeup. As she stands in front of her closest, she reaches for a pale yellow dress. She remembers wearing it for the glee club's Halo/Walking on Sunshine performance. She almost smiles as she pulls it over her head. It makes her feel a little better.

xxxxxx

A few hours later, she is shaking hands with the owner of the apartment.

"I'm Sarah," the mid-40 year old woman says, sticking out her hand to shake.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Quinn."

"What a pretty name. Are you new to Lima?"

Quinn thinks about her answer carefully. Technically, she isn't new to Lima. In fact, she knows it far to well. She used to know everything about this town. But now she is back, after five years, and suddenly nothing seems so familiar anymore.

"Yes," she finally says. "I am new."

"Well it is a very nice place."

Quinn resists the urge to roll her eyes.

Instead, she says, "I'm sure it's just lovely."

As the words leave her lips, she knows she is lying. Pretending once again.

"Well let's begin the tour," Sarah says, opening the door to the apartment.

Sarah is chipper and energetic. It makes Quinn mad. Mainly because she wishes she was that happy. She used to think it was possible: possible for her to be happy again. Now she isn't so sure. Quinn finds herself taking a deep breathe as they enter; she is nervous. She doesn't know why, but she is.

As Sarah shows her around, Quinn fakes her enthusiasm. She tosses in a smile here and then, comments on the lovely light from the windows or the new kitchen counter tops. She almost exhausts herself from pretending to be okay. Pretending for a complete stranger. That's nothing new.

Overall, everything goes well. The apartment is nice and new, but simple. It will be a good fresh start, hopefully. Those are the words she tells herself repeatedly.

"I want to rent from you, I'll pay what you're asking." Quinn says. There is no point in bullshitting around it. The sooner she does this, the sooner she can get out of her old house.

"Seriously?" Sarah asks, surprised. The house has been listed for months with no activity in this economy. She would take a much lower fee but decides not to push her luck.

"Yes. On one condition, I want to move in as soon as possible."

"Okay."

"Like next week?"

Sarah can't believe it, who is this young women? "That sounds perfect."

A few minutes later, Quinn is signing on the dotted line. She doesn't give herself much time to think about. She just wants to get it over with, before she changes her mind. Before she decides she doesn't want to stay in Lima. Before she goes running away again. She doesn't think about what she will do when she decides to leave. She will worry about that later.

"Thank you Quinn, I hope you have a good experience in Lima," Sarah says as they finish the paperwork. Sarah can't help but wonder what drove this New York blonde beauty to a small town like Lima. She wants to ask more, offer to help this girl who is so clearly broken. But she figures it's not her place to intervene.

"Thank you…. for agreeing to do this so quickly," Quinn says slowly.

"My pleasure."

They shake hands.

xxxx

The week passes quickly and soon Quinn is moving in her stuff. She doesn't have much. She managed to fill a couple of suitcases full of old clothes from high school. Clothes that remind her too much of the girl she once was, but what choice did she really have? She did some shopping at Target for essentials, but most of the furniture came from her childhood home. It's not ideal. Because if anything, Quinn wants to escape her past not be reminded of it. But it's better than nothing.

After everything is nearly put away, Quinn walks to the living room and stands in the middle of it. Aside from the television and two armchairs, it is empty and stark. She suddenly feels more alone than she did before. She takes a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. "What did I just do?" she wonders.

Maybe this is a clean slate for her. Or maybe it just represents how empty she feels inside. She sighs and leaves her new apartment. It's been less than a day and she already feels suffocated, trapped, and alone. She is extra cautious to lock the door behind her.

She feels faint and queasy and a horrible headache is beginning to form. She presses her fingertips to her temples. She closes her eyes and inhales. She exhales.

Walking down the hallway to the elevator, she forces herself to think of nothing. If she thinks of nothing, then nothing can break her. Nothing can make her cry.

Her thin finger presses the down button for the elevator. She waits patiently, foot tapping on the linoleum tile. The gold elevator doors swing open. She almost faints when she notices who is inside.

Puck.

She swallows the bile rising in her throat.

"Quinn?" she faintly hears Puck say. But she can't respond. She can't respond because the room is spinning and her vision is blurring. She is frozen in spot. The elevator doors begin to shut. Puck reaches out and stops it with his foot.

He gently grabs her arm, balancing her. She flinches at his touch. Quinn takes a deep breath and tries to regain her focus. She slowly steps inside the elevator. She avoids eye contact with him. Her heading is pounding. She can't believe this is happening.


	6. Somethings you don't need

**Wow thanks to everyone who subscribed, read and reviewed last chapter! I truly appreciate each and every one of you! Thanks to aedgn, BMontague, and ****gleeothfriends90210cccjsdAMD for the wonderful reviews! **

**Also, I am doing a college internship program this summer, so I might not be able to update quite as frequently. I definitely will continue to write/update both of my stories, but it might get delayed a tad at times. Just thought I would let you all know : )**

**Thank you all for everything! Hope you enjoy this one!**

The gold elevator doors slide shut. Quinn feels like she going to puke again. She doesn't need this. She has enough to cope with. She doesn't need to be in the same apartment complex as Noah fucking Puckerman. What did she sign up for? Why do all the painful things keep reappearing?

"Quinn?" Puck asks again softly. His hand is still resting on her arm and he reluctantly pulls it away. He is clearly surprised to see her here as the worry shines through in his voice.

She looks up at him. She looks weak, worried, pained. The expression in her face scares him.

"Puck," she eventually manages to get out.

"Quinn, what are you doing here?"

"I just moved in," she says slowly.

She lets out a shaky sigh. She will never be able to escape Puck now.

"Here?"

She nods again.

"But…I live here," he clarifies as if he can't quite believe it.

Part of her wants to laugh at the way he says it. It reminds her how adorable he can be. But she can't laugh. It's almost like she doesn't know how to anymore.

Instead she says, "I figured. It only makes sense. Of course, this would happen to me."

He raises his eyebrows in surprise. Despite her words, he's happy. He's happy that she will be near him. He's happy that he can watch out for her.

"You're moving back to Lima?"

"Just for a while. My mother wanted me to. She said I needed to get better."

Puck sighs a breath of relief. There is nothing he wants more than for Quinn to get better. Looking at her hurts him. She is broken. So clearly broken. She looks ill and frail. He doesn't know why she is way the way she is. It makes it even worse.

"Good for you. I'm proud of -"

"Don't. There's nothing to be proud of. I don't need to get better, because I am not SICK," she enunciates. "I'm doing this because my mother wanted me to. Not because I agree with it. And definitely not because I want to."

Puck stares at her. Just when he thought he was making progress, he realizes he's only been walking backwards. He should've known it wouldn't be this easy.

"I'm just worried about you Q."

"I'm fine." she snaps, clearly frustrated. The second the words leave her lips, she starts to cry. She is a sobbing mess.

"Hey," Puck says softly, walking closer to her. He takes small steps as to not frighten her. She is so god damn fragile. He finds himself worrying that any sudden motion will break her into tiny pieces beyond repair. "Hey, it's okay," he reaches out and tenderly touches her shoulder.

Again, she flinches. He worries about her past. He doesn't move his hand. Instead, he slowly pulls back her long blonde hair from her face.

Quinn pulls away from him. It hurts too much to be so close to him. It reminds her too much of what they had. Why is he here? She wipes away the tears furiously.

"I'm sorry…I didn't mean to yell, I –"

Her sudden apology surprises Puck.

"Quinn, you don't need to say anything."

She looks at him. People are always forcing her to speak, to explain things. It's nice not having too. For once.

"I'm tired of people worrying about me, and thinking that I need to get better," she admits after a few moments.

He is surprised that she is sharing so much with him. He misses it. He misses the days where they could tell each other anything. Everything.

"They just worry because they care about you."

It's a backwards way of telling her he still cares. But it works, he figures. It's better than nothing.

"I know."

"I miss you Quinn."

"Stop saying that," she says. But this time, her words aren't so bitter. They are sad. They are sad because Quinn realizes that she feels the same way. She misses the old her.

"Okay," Puck says sadly, drawing her out of her thoughts.

They both turn their attention to the front of the elevator. They stand in silence for a while. They watch the floor numbers click by.

He turns to look at her. He is looking for that small something Mr. Shue told him about. The small thing that will remind him the old Quinn Fabray is still there. He doesn't see anything. Not yet. But he will keep watching for it. He will keep waiting.

One thing does stand out though. Despite how fragile she looks, he can't help but notice the dress she is wearing: the yellow baby-doll one. He remembers her wearing it in glee club for some Beyonce performance.

"I like your dress."

"I don't have many clothes with me. I needed something to wear."

"It's nice."

She nods slightly. He swears he sees a small smile appear on her face.

The elevator approaches the lobby. The gold doors open again. Neither of them step out.

Instead, they turn to face each other. It feels like something needs to be said, but neither of them knows what exactly.

"I guess I'll see you around Puck," Quinn says, turning to leave.

"Wait!" he calls out after her.

She turns around.

"Are you free right now? To grab a coffee or something?"

She should say no, she tells herself. Talking with him will only make it harder. It will make it harder when she has to leave again. She has spent the last five years trying to forget about him. Trying to forget about them and what they once shared. This will just ruin all of those efforts. She opens her mouth to say no, but the word "yes," tumbles out instead.

Puck can't believe the words that come from her lips. She just agreed to have coffee with him. It doesn't feel real. He feels nervous and scared. Like he could wake up at any second and this would all be a dream. And a familiar one at that.

Puck opens the door for her at the coffee shop across the street from the apartment. He watches her every expression. He wants to memorize the way her eyebrows furrow as she studies the menu. He wants to remember how she smells like daisies and the ocean. He wants to forever hear the click of her shoes on the tile. He wants to remember everything. In case she slips through his fingers again.

"I'll have a coffee black. Please," Quinn says to the barista.

"Black? I thought you hated black coffee."

"Not anymore."

He frowns slightly. Too much time has passed between them. He used to be able to guess her order: a vanilla latte with skim milk and a gingerbread cookie. Always. It never changed. Except now it has. Now it's different, and it scares him. He wonders how he has changed too. Even in the slightest of ways.

"Don't you want anything to eat?" he asks.

"No. I'm not hungry."

Puck decides not to push her. He can already see her retreating. He worries that he will lose ahold of her before he's even managed to bring her back.

Quinn shoves a five-dollar bill at the cashier, but Puck stops her. He orders himself a coffee and pulls out his wallet. He hands over the money

"Thank you," she says. Her words are soft and quiet. It is a strong contrast to her personality. They wait in silence for their drinks. It probably should feel awkward but it doesn't. It feels like they are simply strangers. Strangers who will walk away from each other mere moments later. Strangers who will forget each other within moments of passing. Puck shakes the thought out of his head. He reminds himself that Q is still there, somewhere. She has to be.

They sit down in unison at the back table. Puck tries desperately to stop his leg from shaking. He looks her in the eyes. Her green-brown eyes are pooled with emotion. He tries to decipher what is there. But he can't figure it out. The familiar steeliness prevents him from fully seeing the pain disguised behind the surface. Nevertheless, he still knows it there.

He watches her take small sips of the coffee. He can tell that Quinn hates the taste of it. He represses the urge to smile at her crumpled up face.

"So how are you?" he asks after a few minutes.

She takes another sip of the black syrup, giving herself time to come up with an answer.

"I'm fine."

Fine isn't an answer. Fine isn't an emotion. Fine is a word you use when you don't want to describe what is really going on. Puck knows this. That is why it worries him.

"How's New York?" he presses on.

"Its…"

"Fine?" he guesses.

She shoots him a look. It is one mixed with warning. But if you look hard enough, you can see a tiny bit of amusement poking through the surface. It gives him much needed hope and reassurance.

"When did you graduate from Yale?"

Her expression perks up slightly at the mention of school. She almost smiles. Almost.

"A year ago last April."

"Congratulations. That's so amazing Quinn."

"Thank you."

"I mean it. You went through so much crap that seeing you go live out your dreams is just really incredible."

She tries to smile. She tries to pretend like everything is okay now, but it falters. Instead, she just averts her eyes away from his so he can't see what is really hidden beneath them.

"So did you graduate with that Performing Arts degree?"

She nods. "I did."

Perhaps that is why she is so good at pretending, Puck thinks. That is why she can pretend that everything is okay and that nothing is wrong. When really, nothing is right.

"How is your mother? And your sister? Sarah must be so old now," Quinn asks, wanting to change the subject. But she also is curious to know the answer. Puck's family has always meant a lot to her.

He smiles at the mention of his family. He can't help but feel slightly reassured that she remembers them. Maybe it is stupid to think that Quinn would ever forget. Maybe it is nothing but a way to keep the conversation flowing. Maybe that's all it really is. But hearing her ask about his life gives him more hope.

"She's good. She graduated high school last year, and now she's at Ohio State. Making the family proud as usual."

"She was always a smart girl."

"She wants to be a doctor…. At least someone will improve the Puckerman name."

Quinn frowns slightly at his comment.

"Why didn't you ever leave Lima, Puck?"

"I didn't see a reason too."

"I can't imagine being stuck in this town for longer than I had to. But I guess I'm not one to talk… cause here I am, back again."

"It must have been amazing to live in New York," he says.

He wants to mention Rachel and Finn, but he can't. Not yet. He doesn't want Quinn to know that he knows. He doesn't want to scare her off.

He notices that Quinn winces at this comment. She looks distraught, flustered. She tugs a piece of blonde hair behind her ear.

"It was …."

Suddenly, she feels trapped. She can't remember why she agreed to meet with Puck in the first place. She is supposed to hate him. The sudden influx of emotion causes her to stand up quickly. The chair clatters to the floor. It echoes throughout the room.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have come," she says, the tears threatening to spill over. But she can't let them fall. That would be showing too much emotion, revealing too much weakness. Quinn grabs her purse, and runs for the café exit.

"Wait Quinn!" Puck calls after her, standing abruptly.

Quinn faintly hears his voice but she doesn't stop. She can't stop.

Not now. Not ever.


	7. I got a scar I can talk about

**Wow, thank you all so much for the support and reviews! I know that it's been a very long time since I've updated and I apologize for my tardiness. I hate getting so behind. I have one chapter left for my other story, **_**It's Not Supposed to be this Way **_**and then I'll be focusing all my time writing on this one :) **

**This chapter is written based on what I've read and my own previous knowledge. I apologize in advance if anything is inaccurate. The idea for this chapter stemmed from a book I read by Sarah Dessen called **_**Just Listen. **_**It really impacted me and I hope that I do justice to the serious subject matter. **

**Again, thank you all for the support. Special thanks to ****gleeothfriends90210cccjsAMD, BMontague,****Shananigan****,**** readbetweenthesigns, 12Lionzroar12, and Char for reviewing and for all the kind words. ****I couldn't be more grateful! **

**Quick Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or the novel **_**Just Listen **_**by Sarah Dessen. I thank them for giving me such incredible characters to write about and sparking inspiration for certain storylines :)**

Puck wakes early the next morning. He couldn't sleep after Quinn ran out on him at the cafe. He spent the whole night trying to figure out what he said. Wondering what words set her off.

He still can't believe they live in the same apartment complex. Is it a sign? He hopes so but pushes the thought out of his head. He can't afford to think that way. Regardless of whether or not it is fate, Puck decides to take advantage of it. So he tracks down her apartment number. It takes him a while considering she just moved in yesterday. There is literally no sign of her existence anywhere. But after retracing his steps, he finds a gentle old man who excitedly tells Puck that a "blonde looker in a short dress" moved in beside him. Puck takes this to be Quinn and fights the urge to chuckle. He also reminds himself to tell Quinn to lock her doors. If she ever speaks to him again that is.

His hands shake as he knocks on the door. He tries not to think about his actions too much. He waits for answer, her voice, the noise of a door unlocking. Nothing. He frowns and knocks on the door again. Still nothing. Five minutes pass and Puck is still standing there. He knocks one more.

At this point, he's starting to grow concerned. He probably shouldn't be. After all, Quinn has a habit of ignoring people. But something tells him otherwise: a feeling in the pit of his stomach. He reaches for the door handle and turns it. He's surprised to find it unlocked. A frown forms on his face. He pushes the door open slightly wider.

"Quinn?" he calls out. His voice echoes throughout the empty space. He wonders if he even has the right apartment. Then he catches sight of her purse of the table. Same one she had yesterday.

"Quinn?" he calls out again. He hears the faint sound of water running in the background. So that's why she didn't answer, he tells himself, she's in the shower. He probably should leave, he thinks, she doesn't even have to know that he was there. But something prevents his feet from moving towards the door.

"It's just me," he says as to not startle her. "Puck," he clarifies. He steps forward slowly. The steam begins to feel thick and heavy.

When she doesn't respond, Puck takes a step closer to the washroom. "Quinn."

He knows he shouldn't, but he slowly turns the handle to the bathroom. "I'm just coming in Quinn."

However, something on the other side of the door prevents it from opening easily. Puck frowns. He pushes it a little harder, giving him enough room to slide his body inside. He gasps as his feet hit a layer of cold water.

The room is so foggy that he can barely see. But the sight in front of him is something that only a nightmare could conjure up. He gasps. Lying in a pool of water on the washroom floor is Quinn, wrapped loosely in a towel. Unconscious. Her cheeks are hollow. The circles under her eyes are dark. He lunges for her body. It is weak and frail. He picks her up gently, pressing her soaking wet, half-naked body to his chest.

The drain can't handle the influx of water and it's spilling over the bathtub. Puck quickly glances at the toilet. The lid is open, and he literally has to tear his eyes away from what he sees inside. Sometimes when he closes he eyes he can still see it. He doesn't think the image will ever truly leave him.

Tears begin to fall down Puck's cheeks but he doesn't register their presence. He quickly turns off the running water, throwing down as many towels as he can find to soak up the water. That isn't his priority right now. Hands shaking, he wraps one of them around Quinn.

He hugs her tight, trying to warm her shivering body. He checks for a pulse: weak, but still there. He presses her closer to him. I can't loose her, he thinks frantically.

"Q…" he says, the tears falling heavily, "Stay with me Q. Everything's going to be okay," he whispers. Hands still trembling, he manages to pull his phone out of his pocket. He dials the number he always wished he wouldn't have to.

"911 What's your emergency?" the operator on the other line asks.

"I just found…." His voice shakes. "I found my friend unconscious in the bathroom. And she's shaking and…. blood…. and cold," he's having trouble articulating himself.

"Sir, I need you to calm down. I'm tracking your location and sending help."

"Okay," Puck manages to breath out.

"Can you answer a few questions for me?" the operator asks.

"Yes," Puck manages to mumble out.

"How old is your friend?"

"Umm 24, 25," but he honestly can't remember. Not at a time like this.

"Are there serious injuries that you can see?"

"Umm no, but I think…I think she just threw up…before."

He doesn't even understand what he's saying at this point. He swears that his heart is beating so loud that the neighbour can here.

"Does she have a pulse? Is she breathing?"

"Yes but, b-but it's weak."

"Okay. First of all, I need you to get her out of anything wet. Wrap her loosely in blankets, sheets, even a dry towel. Keep her as warm as possible. Body heat is often most helpful. I need you to continue to monitor her breathing, alright? Notify us if any drastic change occurs. Paramedics are on their way. "

"Okay."

"Everything is going to be fine sir."

Puck feels like vomiting when he hears that word: fine. Nothing was fine anymore. Nothing was ever fine.

He hangs up, tossing his phone somewhere. He pulls Quinn out of the bathroom and into her bedroom.

Laying her down on the bed, he quickly runs to her closet. But of course, it's still empty. She hasn't unpacked yet. And even if she had, Puck figures there wouldn't be much inside. He sees a white, fluffy blanket discarded on the ground. He picks it up and tries his best to wrap her in it. Feeling uncomfortable looking at her without permission, he averts his eyes away from her body. This doesn't help matters any. Puck's hands are still shaking from nerves. In that second, he gives up trying to be polite. He slowly peels the towel off, replacing the material with the blanket. He can't help but notice how thin she is. How he can practically count her ribs. But that isn't what worries him. The row of bruises along her inner thigh and along her collarbone is. He takes in a sharp breath. They certainly aren't from today. If he is truthful with himself, he knows they happened a while ago.

His brain is trying to convince him of something, but he pushes the thoughts out of his mind. Reaching down, he picks up Quinn again and notices that her breathing sounds stronger. He sends a quick prayer to the gods. His god, her god, any god that will listen. Picking her up bridal style, Puck carries her to the front door.

"Don't leave me," he whispers. "Please don't leave me. You can't. You just can't. Not now…not when we're both so fucked up."

He hears an urgent knocking at his door, followed by the sound of a turning doorknob. The paramedics arrive at that exact moment. They gently take her from his arms as soon.

"Good job son," someone mumbles. Puck doesn't know who it is. He just knows that Quinn has to be okay. She has to be. He follows them frantically out of the apartment and into the awaiting ambulance. He refuses to leave her side.

That's the way it's always been with them. Through thick and thin.


	8. I got a hole in me now

**First of all, I would like to thank you all so much for the incredible, ongoing support. I am so very grateful for everyone who has read, alerted and reviewed this story. Special thank you to **_**gleeothfriends90210cccjsAMD**__**, **__**SemJasamOTP, andsoitis2, BMontague, mistoffelees111, 12Lionzroar12, littleredwritinggleek, Raina, Kelly, Char, Dana and the two guests**_** : ) ****Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews and kind comments. Each one brings a smile to my face.**

**Second, I am so sorry for the extreme lack of updates! This semester just seemed to fly by. But I promise to never abandon this story; I love writing it and putting together all the pieces of the puzzle. I hope this chapter explains a little more of what's going on. Once again, I'm sorry if my medical talk isn't extremely accurate. Hopefully my new addiction to Grey's Anatomy will slightly help ;)**

**Once again, thank you for all the continued support xxxx**

**I got a hole in me now**

Puck paces the hospital hallway. The smell of bleach lingers in the air. The sound of his footprints hitting the linoleum tile echoes around him.

He holds his phone in his hands. His fingers slowly hit the number he has known since he was 15. But before he can even hit the call button he hangs-up. He feels sick to his stomach. He can't remember hurting so much in his life. Ever. How could everything go from fine to bad within a matter of hours?

"She was fine," he mutters under his breath. But the second he says the words out loud, he knows they aren't true. They were never true. Of course she wasn't fine. He found her lying nearly naked, unconscious and freezing in her bathroom. Quinn Fabray is anything but fine. It's the thought of her surrounded by doctors in the emergency room that makes him dial the number. This isn't about him. This is about her. Hell, it's always been about her.

He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in when it begins to ring.

"Hello."

The voice on the other end of the line is so familiar yet foreign at the same time. In a way, he forgot what it feels like to have people who care about you. It's in that moment that Puck realizes what he's done to himself, shutting people out like he did.

"Finn, it's uhhh Puck."

His voice catches in his throat as soon as it leaves his lips.

The silence is so deadly that for a second, Puck thinks he's hung-up.

"What?" Finn asks abruptly. "You finally decide to call dude, after five fucking years or however long its been?! What happened to you? What – "

But Puck cuts him off before he can go any further.

"Look, you have a right to be mad at me. But not now," he replies, sighing as he rests his head in his hand. "Quinn's in the hospital, I –"

"What?" Finn cuts him off sharply. "What the hell happened?!" he yells.

"I found her this morning. She was lying there unconscious on the floor. And she was so cold and barely had a pulse, and I…." he trails off.

He can hear Rachel sobbing hysterically in the background as Finn fills her in.

"Is she okay? Tell me she's going to be okay."

"I honestly…. I don't know."

"How did you find her?" Finn asks, confusion and hurt laced in his voice. "Where were you, I don't get it. I don't understand."

Puck frowns, confused at Finn's apparent confusion.

"…In her apartment."

"What?" Finn asks breathlessly. "You found her here in New York?"

"What? No. I found her here."

"What?! She's in fucking Ohio? That's where she's been all this time? In Lima?"

"Wait…you didn't know she was here?"

"Of course we didn't know!" Finn yells. "Is this the voice of two people in the know?" he snaps.

A silence lingers over them for a moment.

And even though it's been years, Puck can still visualize his former best friend pacing around the apartment and knocking things over in a fit of rage.

The sound of a sob draws him back to reality. At first he thinks it's Rachel, but the loud breathing suggests otherwise. Finn.

"She's got to be okay…we should've known better, we should've tried harder."

By this point, Puck has literally no idea what's going on.

"Finn, I…"

"No, no you don't get to do that. This does not change things between us Puck," he spats. "It does not fix anything. This is Quinn! Don't you get it?! This is Quinn. Our Quinn."

"Our Quinn…" Puck repeats under this breath.

"Not your Quinn! Rachel's Quinn. My Quinn. Get that through your head.. We're leaving for the airport. See you when we land."

Before he can get another word in, the dial tone has gone flat.

Puck stares down at his phone. A wet drop hits the screen. He realizes that he's been crying all along.

Sighing, he leans his head back against the wall. He closes his eyes. And he pretends that none of this is happening. For a fleeting second, he even believes it.

"Mr. Puckerman, is it?"

A sweet sounding voice pulls him back to reality. He opens his eyes to find a pretty, brunette doctor staring at him.

"Uh…yeah, sorry it's just been…"

"I get it," she replies, a small smile forming on her lips. "I'm Dr. Williams. Your friends with Quinn Fabray, right? You brought her in?"

"I guess…yeah, I am."

"She's going to be alright. You can take a few breaths now."

Puck follows her instructions. Relief floods over him.

"Because her body temperature was quite low from when she came in, we needed to warm her up to get the blood flowing. But her vitals look good now, her breathing has stabilized and her body temperature has nearly returned to normal. We've given her some drugs to help her sleep. You're more than welcome to go in but she'll be out for a few hours."

"Thank you," Puck replies sincerely.

"Is there someone else we can call? Her mom or dad? Maybe a boyfriend?"

"Uhh no, I…I already went ahead and called her…her umm real family," he says.

It's like he's finally admitting something to himself as he speaks. Rachel and Finn are her family. Not her father. Not her sister. And definitely not him.

"They're flying in from New York; they should be here in a couple hours."

Dr. Williams gives him a weak smile. He fears of the words that will follow.

"There are a few things we need to discuss about Quinn." The tone of her voice turned serious.

Puck gulps. "We should wait. She would want us to wait until they get here."

"Okay. Let me know if you need anything or have any more questions. Quinn's in room 325 if you want to see her."

"Yeah…uh thanks."

"She's still going to be fine Puck."

There's that word again. Fine.

xxxxxxxx

If he weren't so stressed, hurt and confused, he'd probably find it somewhat funny: seeing Rachel bolt through the doors of Lima General Hospital looking the most disheveled he's every seen her. Her hair is tossed half-hazardly into a bun. And she's wearing sweatpants. Rachel Berry is in sweatpants. But Finn doesn't look much better.

Puck stands up to greet them before they even spot him.

For a second, the three stand staring at each other. No words are spoken. No gestures for hugs or handshakes are made. They might as well be strangers.

"How is she?" Rachel asks, breaking the silence. She steps towards Puck, but still keeps her distance.

"She's going to be alright. But the doctor has some concerns. I said we should wait for you." He gulps.

Rachel gives a slow nod. Puck's eyes move from her to Finn. The two of them lock eyes for a second. Puck can see the pain and hurt hiding behind Finn's. Without saying a word, he brushes past Puck.

Rachel watches Finn walk to the nurses' station. She turns back to face Puck. He can see the remains of mascara smudged under her eyes. She looks tired and worn. But there is this stillness to her that instantly calms him.

And then she starts to sob. Uncontrollably. The tears pool down her cheeks as she collapses into a chair. Her breathing is heavy and laced with emotion. Puck places a hand on her back, unsure of what to do. Finn rushes back and grabs one of her hands, squatting down in front of her.

"Rach," he says soothingly.

"I just….I" she lets out another sob.

"I know…." Finn replies, leaning his forehead against hers. "I know."

Rachel continues to cry silently for a few more minutes. Finn and Puck sit on either side of her. Finn's still holds her hand. Puck hasn't moved his either. He isn't sure if he should or not.

Dr. Williams approaches them a few minutes later, a gentle smile graced on her face.

Rachel furiously wipes away the remnants of her tears. She runs her finger under her eyes, desperate to erase the black smudges. It didn't make much of a difference. But she still stands and stretches out her hand, introducing herself.

"Nice to meet you," replies. "I'm sure here caught you up on Quinn's condition?"

Rachel only nods in response.

The doctor guides them over to a rather deserted area of the waiting room.

The florescent lights cast a sickly glow on all their faces.

"Quinn is going to be okay," says. "The body has a way of shutting down when it senses something is wrong. Fainting usually results from low blood pressure. Quinn had a synoptic episode earlier – she remembers feeling dizzy but doesn't remember falling or passing out. She's just resting now, letting her body recover. But we did want to talk with you about a few things."

"Okay," Finn says wearily.

"We're going to bring in a psychiatrist to talk with Quinn."

"What?" Rachel asks breathlessly. Her eyes bloodshot from crying

"After Quinn was brought in, we noticed a severe lack of nutrition. She was incredibly sleep deprived and very thin and weak."

"Oh god," Rachel murmurs under he breath. Her head hurts. And she swears the whole room can hear it pounding,

"These are often symptoms associated with depression."

Puck rings his hands together. He feels like he could blow at any moment.

"Has Quinn been showing any signs of unusual behaviour lately? Not acting like herself? Maybe becoming more distant?

Rachel nods. "She hasn't been returning our calls or anything." She glances over at Finn in worry. "Oh God…what if…"

"There's nothing to worry about," interrupts. "We don't know anything for sure at this point. It could be nothing. We just want to make sure we cover all the bases. In a situation like this, we have to follow protocol. And if there is something wrong, then we can help Quinn get better."

Finn lets out a sigh. It's obvious to Puck that he's wrestling with emotions.

"As long as she's alive," Finn finally says. "That's all that really matters."

Dr. Williams nods in agreement. "I'll go check on her now, I'll be back in a few minutes."

Puck watches as she leaves.

He tries to push it away, but the memory of Quinn slamming the door in his face replays over and over again in his mind.

It only happened days ago but it feels like years. Yet, he can still smell her perfume. He can still feel the breeze created from the swinging of the door.

"God, if I knew things were this bad, I would have…." he trails off.

"You would have what Puck!?" Finn yells, interrupting his thoughts. "You would have helped her? You would have called us? You would have given a damn for once?"

Puck stares back in response. He opens his mouth to speak but no words escape.

"Out of everyone, you are the one that can't help her!" Finn screams again.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Puck retorts, fists clenching together.

"You know damn well what it means!"

"STOP IT!" Rachel screams, stepping in between them.

Out of breath, Puck and Finn stop.

"ENOUGH. I don't give a fuck what happened years ago. That doesn't matter now. Quinn matters. So you two have to suck it up. This is not about either of you or me, or whatever shit happened between senior year and now. It's about Quinn. So get it together."

The three of them stood in a semi-circle speechless.

The silence was tense but calming at the same time.

"I'm sorry," Puck repeats quietly. "I should have known something more was going on after her mom's funeral…."

Rachel looks up, her eyes wide. "What?" she asks.

Her words are so quiet that they are nearly inaudible.

"Her mom's funeral," Puck repeats, his forehead wrinkling in confusion.

"Judy….Judy died?"

"She didn't tell you?"

"No." Rachel collapses into the nearest chair. "No."

Finn sinks down into the chair next to hers.

"God, Quinn" he sighs under his breath.

Leaning over, Finn runs his hands through his hair.

"How could she not tell us?" Rachel chokes out. "I could have helped her. We knew Judy wasn't well. We would have come with her. I can't…I can't believe she had to do this alone…. with her dad and Fran. I could have helped her…." Rachel squeaks. Tears roll down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry Rachel, I swear I would have called…"

"I know," she looks up at Puck. "I know you would have."

"We kept calling her," Finn finally spoke. "She never answered. We went over to her apartment. She wasn't there. We called everyone. We were going to call the police, it's not like her to just leave," Finn says shakily. "Finally, we got a call from her. We missed it because we were at work. She said she was fine and not to worry. That was it."

Several minutes pass and nothing more is said.

Finally, an incoherent sound comes from Rachel.

Both Finn and Puck turn to look at her.

"No," she whispers, shaking her head. "No," she repeats a little louder.

"What is it Rachel?"

But no words come out, only tears and sobs. She starts full-fledged crying.

The kind of crying where you can't catch your breath.

The kind when you feel like you're on fire.

Where it feels like the end of the world.

"I should've done something, I mean it was obvious…" she lets out a sob.

Puck and Finn look at each other in confusion.

"What is it Rachel?"

"I grabbed her once…. I grabbed her wrist. She went to leave and I reached out to pull her back... I forget to tell her something, something stupid."

Neither Puck nor Finn say anything, unsure of where this story was going.

"It was nothing…. I barely touched her but she screamed," Rachel let out a sob. "She let out a screamed and I let go. She said it was nothing. She said that she burnt her hand on the curling iron that morning…. so I let it go, I let it go…" Rachel repeats.

Finn reaches out to rub her back. "You let what go…?"

Rachel lets out a shaky breath, looking up at them. "Her hair was straight that day….I noticed but I let it go…."

Puck can see Finn's hands tense. A word comes from Rachel's mouth but he doesn't catch it.

"Colin," she repeats. "God, it was Colin." She looks up at Finn, tears still falling down her face.

"No," Finn says. "No. No…" His words get louder and angrier each time.

Finally it hits Puck. It all flashes before his eyes. The bruises he saw on Quinn that very morning. The bruises that made him think the unimaginable. The thought that made him want to vomit. The thought that constantly persisted in his mind but that he chose to ignore. How could he have pushed that all away?

"When I found her this morning, she…she had bruises on her…. on her collarbone and thighs," he admits, looking up at them for confirmation.

Rachel lets out a wail, "I kept noticing these things…. Quinn wearing long-sleeved shirts, the dark circles under her eyes, her distancing herself from us, making excuses for missing events…I asked her about it over and over again. I asked if he was hurting her," Rachel lets out another sob. "She insisted I was being silly," she admits. "So I let it go…"

Puck stares straight ahead. His fingers coil into a fist. He was seriously going to kill this Colin guy.

As he looks up, he catches Finn's eye. He can see a single tear trickle down his cheek.

That tear holds so much: pain, fear, hurt. But mostly anger.

"I shouldn't have let it go. I should've pushed her. I thought…."

"God damn, I'm going to kill that son of a bitch," Finn says. A tone of bitterness exists in his voice that Puck's never heard before.

Puck watches as Finn grabs Rachel's hand and squeezes it.

"It's not your fault Rach."

Rachel closes her eyes. The memories play like a roll of film in her head.

"I should have done more," she whispers again.

Her brown hair sticks to the sides of her face from the tears.

"Me too," Finn agrees. "Me too."

And in that moment, Puck realizes how much things have changed over the years.

These were no longer his best friends from high school. Rachel was no longer the girl who wanted every solo in Glee Club. Finn was no longer the football player who tossed boys into the dumpster. Finn and Quinn and Rachel were a family now.

They had grown up. They had changed.

And it hits him for the first time that maybe he didn't.

He's still stuck in this dead-end town, cleaning pools and serving people at BreadStix.

Maybe if he had changed none of this would have happened.

Maybe Quinn would still be Quinn; she would be okay.

Neither of them say anything after that.

The three of them sit in silence for what feels like an eternity.

Puck cannot force his gaze upwards. He cannot look at the hurt expression on Rachel's face or bear to see the anger on Finn's. So he stares at the ground instead.

The sound of approaching draws them all up into sitting positions.

"Quinn's doing fine," she says with a gentle smile. "I'm sure she'll be up soon if you'd like to see her."

Finn and Rachel nod and stand.

But halfway to the hallway, Rachel looks back.

Her teary eyes lock with those of Puck's. She looks at him as if to say, "aren't you coming?"

He shakes his head. And she nods slowly in response. It's a look of understanding. And Puck hopes that it's a look of forgiveness too.

Puck opens his mouth to speak, but when he looks up again, he finds her gone.

Maybe he was wrong after all. Maybe it wasn't a look of forgiveness at all.

xxxxxxxx

Rachel lets out a shaky breath at the sight of her best friend lying in a hospital bed.

She looks the same. But different too.

She can't help but notice the dark circles under her eyes, the hollowness in her cheeks, the paleness in her skin.

But when she grabs her hand it's like nothing has changed. Nothing at all.

It's like they are back to what they were a year ago: happy and healthy.

Gently, Rachel runs a hand through Quinn's thick blonde hair.

Finn takes a seat on the other side of the bed. He repeats Rachel's actions and grabs her small hand.

"God Quinn," he whispers. "Why didn't you tell us?"

In unison, they squeeze her hand.

This tiny motion seems to bring Quinn back to consciousness.

The pain throbs throughout her body. Everything is a blur. Her head pounds so loud it feels like her heart is in her brain. The tightness she feels in her throat is near unbearable.

But she feels empty. And she wonders if this hole in her can ever truly be repaired.

For a second, she thinks this is all a dream. A nightmare.

Quinn keeps her eyes shut, trying to remember what happened.

Flashes of that morning come back to her slowly and then all at once. The hot water hitting her body in the shower. Wrapping a towel tightly around herself. Leaning over the toilet and placing her hands on the lid. She can still taste the bile in her throat. The last memory is the one that stings the most…

"Water," she coughs.

Both Rachel and Finn jump up, rushing to get the glass to her lips.

The clear fluid is bliss as it runs down her throat. It washes away the memories, or one memory at least.

Slowly, she parts her eyes wider. The room slowly comes into focus. She stares confused at the concerned faces watching her.

"Rachel," she says, very quietly. And suddenly she feels this weight lift off her shoulders. As much as Quinn pretends she doesn't need them, it hits her then that she does. They are her family.

"Honey, how are you?" Rachel asks, perching herself on the edge of the bed. "God you worried me so much." She leans forward, wrapping her arms around the blonde's frail body.

Quinn frowns, still in shock. But regardless, she wraps her arms around her best friend in return. It makes her feel safe, loved even. It is something she has not felt in what feels like forever. And she wonders again why she kept this from them? Why she didn't tell them what happened?

Finn's voice travels to her. "Are you feeling okay?

Quinn nods, pulling herself up in bed a little.

"What happened?" she asks, her voice raspy. It feels like someone has stuck a pin through her forehead. She winces in pain.

"You passed out," Rachel explains gently. "This morning. Puck came to check on you and found you lying in the bathroom. You weren't good Q," she says, pushing the hair off Quinn's face. "You were hypothermic and didn't have a strong pulse. He called 911; they brought you here."

"Oh…" she replies slowly.

Puck. It was Puck who found her. It was Puck who saved her. Of course it was. It was always him.

It annoyed her that no matter how badly she treated him, he still showed up.  
>He still cared.<p>

"Why are you here then?"

"He called us once you got to the hospital," Finn adds. "We caught the soonest flight out of JFK."

"You didn't need to."

"Of course we did Q. You are our best friend. You're our family," Rachel answers. "We will be here for you no matter what happens. You need to know that. Maybe we don't need to be here, but we want to be here. And we will always want to be here."

None of them mention Judy or Colin or anything else that has happened lately. But it runs through them like a river. They all can feel it. But they don't need to say anything. Not now. Not yet.

Quinn closes her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. And she truly is.

Puck stands outside the door to her room. He was about to bring her flowers. Yellow daises. They used to be her favourite. Used to being the key words.

However, he stops as soon as the last words leave her lips. He feels a pang in his heart. His feet try to move forward, but he is frozen in place. Slowly, he turns and walks away, back to the waiting room and away from her. Because he knows that he will never have what Rachel and Finn share with Quinn.

xxxxxxx

Puck visits her later that day. After the psych consult. After everything that needs to be said has been said.

He doesn't say anything as he approaches her. He simply sits down in the chair and stares out the window.

"They want me to go to a rehab centre in Cincinnati," Quinn says after a few minutes of silence. Her voice lacks emotion. She stares straight up at the ceiling.

"I know."

"Nothing's wrong with me," she spits out angrily.

He glances over at her, his eyes are full of pain. He hates seeing her this way.

Quinn still refuses to make eye contact.

"I'm not fucking depressed. I don't have an eating disorder. I was not in an abusive relationship. My mother died. I'm sad. I passed out. That's all."

But even as she says it, she knows it isn't true.

"They can help you Quinn."

"I don't need help."

"It'll be good for y–"

She interrupts him. "Maybe you should leave now."

"Quinn –"

"Leave."

He sighs and gets up. The chair screeches against the tiled floor.

In a moment he'll later regret, he says, "Don't you ever feel anything?"

But Quinn doesn't move. She doesn't respond. She continues to stare straight ahead.

xxxxxxxxx

Puck checks on her one more time that night.

He still feels guilty for what he said earlier. Maybe this is his way of apologizing. Or maybe he is just trying to make himself feel better, to take away the guilt.

The second the words left his mouth he knew that he shouldn't have said them.

What was he thinking? Quinn's been through hell and back. She doesn't need him to remind her of it. She already knows.

She's sleeping as he walks in. Quietly, Puck checks to make sure the water glass on the side table is full in case she wakes up in the night. He turns down the volume on the TV. He pulls the blankets up around her bare shoulders. And without thinking, he leans down and kisses her on the forehead.

He turns to go. But a voice, both soft and weak, stops him in his tracks.

"Sometimes…"

Puck turns around to face her. She's still staring at the wall. But her eyes are wide open. He slowly takes a step closer to her. He's afraid that if he moves too fast, she'll break into a million tiny pieces.

"Sometimes it all comes back to me…. And I feel it all. The weight of his hand clenched around my wrist. The taste of bile in my throat. The dead feeling I get when I remember that my mother is gone. And they don't come in bits or pieces. They swarm me all at once. Like my own life is trying to gang up on me. And after, I always feel the same: empty. They all make me feel empty. "

Quinn turns to look at him. A single tear rolls downs her cheek.

"I'm not fine."


	9. Some things you can't leave

**Hi everyone! Wow I have so much to say but am not sure where to start... it's been forever since I updated this story. And by forever, I mean much, MUCH too long. I've felt guilty over it for quite some time, because I really do love writing this particular story. I've been stuck in a bit of a writer's block and have had some trouble getting going. But after the 100****th**** episode, I started gaining back some of my inspiration! So hopefully it sticks with me :)**

**I wrote the beginning of this chapter several times, but ended up going back to my original idea. It's a shorter chapter, but I think it will explain some necessary things, while being a bit of a turning point for the characters. I hope you'll like it!**

**To those who messaged me about this story, thank you so much for your support and dedication! And to everyone who has read, reviewed, alerted or come across this story in any way, thank you with all my heart. Hopefully the next update will not be so irregular. I know most people probably gave up on this story, but I hope there are a few people out there who will still read it xxx**

Quinn stares out her window, watching the birds outside fly further and further away. They are going south for the winter. She finds herself jealous. Jealous that they get to leave this cold, miserable place, while she's stuck. They are going somewhere nice, somewhere better. She is not. In two hours and 35 minutes, she will be checking in to a rehab facility. The thought along makes her want to scream.

She flinches slightly as Rachel turns around and places a hand on her thigh for comfort. Quinn quickly shrugs it off. She doesn't want sympathy or concern. She hates the pity. She hates all of it really. Hates that Rachel and Finn keep forcing food on her. Hates that they keep giving her sympathy glances when they think she's not looking. Hates that she's going to some stupid rehab centre in Cincinnati. She hates all of it, especially herself.

Her hands grip the leather seat of the car so hard that it feels like she will permanently leave a mark.

She glances up and catches Finn staring at her in the rearview mirror again. She doesn't make eye contact. Instead, she averts her eyes sharply, focusing on anything but him.

"Hey Quinn, do you want anything?" Rachel asks, gesturing to the run down gas station outside.

"No. Thanks."

"Are you sure? You should really have something."

"I'm fine Rachel," Quinn snaps.

"Okay...are you going to be okay here?"

"For the love of God Rachel, you're going to be gone for five minutes. I'll be fine. Plus Puck is here. It's not like I'm going to kill myself or anything."

Rachel flinches, but Quinn doesn't look away. She knows her words were harsh, but she feels better having said them.

"I know," Rachel responds quietly, "I just wanted to make sure."

She cares, they all care. Quinn knows that, but sometimes it makes things even worse. She almost wishes no one cared. It would be easier that way.

"Thanks Rach, but I promise I'll be fine. We'll be there soon anyways," she answers again, this time a bit softer. She can feel Rachel's concerned eyes on hers as Quinn turns away from the window. She can't tell which is worse – meeting Rachel's gaze or Puck's.

Quinn sighs and closes her eyes for a brief second, trying to forget everything: the hospital, the phone calls, the piece of toast Rachel made her eat for breakfast, the strange glances Puck keeps shooting her. Everything. She tries to thinks back to a time where she didn't feel this way. But nothing comes up. Everything is a blank. Maybe it's better this way, she decides. Maybe she erased everything else on purpose. Maybe forgetting is easier than remembering.

She closes her eyes, and it all comes back to her. Flashes of that day run through her mind like it's a movie. But this time she is the star.

"_No, please not tonight," she pleads, pushing him away gently. "I've got too much to do for tomorrow."_

_A shove on her already tender arm._

"_But I love you, I love YOU Quinn. Darling, don't do this to me again..."_

"_I'm not doing anything..."_

"_But I love you, don't you want to be together?"_

"_Of course, but –"_

_A slap across her face. _

_A flash of bright light. _

_A slip on the carpet – or was it a push?_

_An attempt to break her fall with the edge of the coffee table. _

_A trickle of blood runs down her leg. _

_Colds shards of glass dig into her hand._

"_Oh my god, oh my god... I'm so sorry Quinn," Colin's voice echoes in the distance. _

_He grabs her hand, but she immediately jerks it back._

"_I'm so sorry darling, I didn't mean it," he pleads, placing a hand on her shoulder. _

_She flinches, backing away from him._

"_I love you Quinn, I'm so sorry..."_

_Her vision is blurry, but she sees a hand. Her hand. _

_Tiny pieces of glass prick her delicate skin. Bubbles of blood forms at the surface. _

"_Please forgive me, please!"_

_She shakes her head, tears falling down her cheeks. _

_Quinn, Quinn!"_

"Quinn?"

The sound of Puck's voice snaps her back to reality. Her face still stings. She looks down at her hand. It's fine.

She feels herself take a deep, albeit shaky, breath.

It was a dream, she tells herself. It was just a dream. It wasn't real. Except once it was real. It wasn't always just a nightmare.

She suddenly feels light-headed. The world is spinning around her, and she grabs on to the handle of the door, desperately trying to get it open.

She throws her weight against it, and it shoves open just in time. She quickly bends over, the gravel scraping her knees, as she pukes up the remains of her breakfast onto the walkway.

"Quinn!" Puck says, his urgent but gentle voice coming from behind her. She can feel the warmth of his hand on the back of her neck as he pulls her hair away from her face.

A sob escapes her lips. She bends over; her breathing quickly becomes heavy and uneven. She closes her eyes, trying to regain focus but all she can see is her hand pricked with blood, shards of glass sticking out at odd angles.

Suddenly, Quinn breaks out into tears. Violent sobs rack her body, and she kneels over in pain as the memories bear down on her. Her breathing becomes more and more ragged as she clutches her chest, desperately inhaling for air that never seems to come.

She is shaking as her sobs become more and more intense. Tears stream down her face, while she grasps for air.

She feels a pair of arms embrace her from behind. She flinches, thinking that it's Colin. She tries to push him away, but he is stronger and resists her efforts, pulling her closer instead. After a few seconds, she gives up and collapses against the body. She is too weak to fight back for any longer. Quinn instantly braces herself, fearing Colin's rough actions and harsh words. But they never come. Instead, she feels strong, gentle arms envelope her from behind.

_Puck._

It hits her suddenly. But it doesn't really surprise her.

The warmth of his body radiates onto hers. She feels safe, like nothing could harm her here. And for once, she doesn't push him away. She lets herself fall into his embrace, as he cradles her closer to his body. His breathing is even and steady, and she feels herself start to mimic his inhales and exhales.

"It's okay," Puck's voice whispers soothingly against her ear. "It's okay Q."

She pulls away slightly. His black t-shirt is wet from her tears.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, looking up at him through glossy eyes.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't ever be sorry for that," he replies gently.

She bites down on her lip, looking away from his steady gaze.

It's been so long since they've been like this. Since they've actually been friends...been normal around each other.

For a second, it's like nothing happened - like years hadn't passed, like people hadn't changed and like their lives hadn't gotten screwed over.

Quinn pulls away slowly, brushing off her dress as she stands up.

Following her lead, Puck does the same.

"Here," he says, holding out his clean, grey sweatshirt.

Again, Quinn bites down on her lip. She hesitates slightly before accepting it.

"Thanks," she replies.

For a few seconds, they stand staring at each other.

Both want to say something, but aren't sure what.

Puck gives a slight nod, opening his mouth to say something. But he is cut off by the sound of Rachel running towards them.

"Oh my god, what happened out here?" she asks, rushing forward to Quinn. In a motherly gesture, she presses her hand against Quinn's forehead.

"It's nothing, I'm fine."

Rachel and Finn steal a glance at each other; a look of concern is etched on both of their faces.

Quinn watches as Finn opens his mouth to speak, turning to Puck in the process. But Quinn quickly injects, stopping him in his tracks.

"Seriously, it's fine. Let's just go."

She's the first to climb back into the car, pulling off her yellow cardigan and swapping it for the sweatshirt.

It smells like him. A pang of heartache hits her like a bolt of lightening. If she focuses hard enough, it almost feels like nothing has changed between them,

Quinn must still be caught up in the past, because she turns to him first. It's the first time that she's really, truly looked him in the eye.

"I'm sorry that you probably smell like vomit now," she admits quietly, slightly embarrassed at her accident.

Puck looks over at her, smiling at the image of her wearing his sweatshirt. He throws his head back slightly, laughing at her statement. In this moment, she almost seems okay. He finds it difficult to tear his eyes away from her.

His laughter catches her off guard; it's been years since she heard him laugh. And once again, it sends her flying back in time. But this time the memory isn't a bad one, even if it is a little tainted.

Puck shakes his head, "It's okay, really. It's nothing I haven't smelt like before."

Quinn finds herself smiling too, a giggle almost escaping her lips. _Almost. _

They both look over at one another. For the briefest of seconds, their eyes lock. It's so quick that one might wonder if it even happened. But it was something. And something is always better than nothing.


End file.
